"You have to leave the city of your comfort and go into the wilderness of your intuition. What you'll discover will be wonderful. What you'll discover is yourself." ~Alan Alda, American actor, director, screenwriter, and author (b 1936)
My brother Kirk had a banana Popsicle. He was sitting on our old green glider going gently back and forth, a pale yellow ring forming around his lips. The Popsicle had two sticks so it could be separated into two Popsicles. I had been circling trying to figure out the best approach.
Finally, I tried the direct one: “Hey Kirk, how ‘bout giving me half of your Popsicle.” “NO,” he replied, looking straight ahead. “You can share it; it’ll split right in half.” “NO,” he repeated. “I’ll let you ride my bike.” “NO, I have my own bike,” he smirked, shifting his gaze only slightly.
For the next five minutes I pleaded, threatened, cajoled and begged, but to no avail. Finally, I realized my brother wasn’t coveting his Popsicle so much as he was enjoying saying “NO” to me. “What kind of a brother are you anyway,” I yelped in desperation. “The kind who knows where the Popsicles are,” he responded smugly. “Why don’t you go get your own Popsicle?”
I let the screen door slam in defiance as I headed into the house. Rummaging through the top of our old Frigidaire I came upon a Dreamsicle (my brother’s favorite) tucked all the way in the back.
Triumphantly I returned to the glider, plopped down next to Kirk, and began dramatically unwrapping the frozen delight. “Hey, where’d you get that?” Kirk asked. “Same place you got that,” I responded, pointing at what was left of the banana Popsicle.
“I’ll let you share the rest of my Popsicle if you give me a bite of the Dreamsicle,” Kirk offered in his most conciliatory tone. Pausing for effect I turned my head to meet my brother’s gaze. “Why don’t you go get your own Dreamsicle;” I said parroting his earlier remark. A moment later I sunk my teeth into the coveted ice cream treat.
There is an oft repeated story, credited to Erma Bombeck, about a very successful woman. No longer finding satisfaction in her career or the money it brought her; she decided, in a moment of clarity, to write Mother Teresa of Calcutta. She sought Mother Teresa’s advice on what she could do to change her life and volunteered to come to Calcutta to help. Time passed, so much so it appeared no reply would come; till one day a battered letter arrived with a Calcutta postmark.
She opened it, and inside, on a single sheet of plain paper, she found a one-sentence reply: "Thank you for your offer, but find your own Calcutta." Though some of us might react to the seeming abruptness of the response it bears tremendous wisdom.
The exchange between my brother and me was all about what we wanted and couldn’t have. We perceived the answer to our happiness as something which seemed to be satisfying someone else. This goes deeper than envy. It is an engrained belief that if something makes someone else happy it will make us happy as well. There is an entire industry built upon this concept… It is called advertising.
Mother Teresa’s response goes deeper than simply responding to what makes us happy. It is a challenge which begins with the word “FIND.” Finding something requires more of us than responding to the first thing which gets our attention. If we are to find anything of value we are called to plan, to seek, to consider, to discern; and sometimes to even start over.
The second key to the statement is “YOUR OWN.” The successful woman thought someone else’s path would provide her with the satisfaction she sought. In reality, we are all uniquely gifted. Each one of our personal “Calcutta’s” will be different.
Much of this is conditioned by where our gifts lie and where they do not. Part of the process is not only looking outward, but looking inward as well. Often, the answer to what is “OUR OWN CALCUTTA” is not a matter of what we need, but what needs us.
Finally, Calcutta is a long way away. Our Calcutta will likely be a long way away for us as well. This means we need to start now. It also means, like the journey of a thousand steps, it will take many small steps to get us there. Life is not a movie. There are few cathartic moments and no music crescendos when they do come. More often than not, one day we will suddenly realize, “This was my Calcutta.”
Dear God: Remind me that I may need to become lost to find myself.
“I may not have gone where I intended to go, but I think I have ended up where I intended to be.” ~Douglas Adams, English writer and dramatist, (1952-2001)
© 2011 James E. Carper. All rights reserved.
“90 Second Stewardship” All rights are reserved. You are welcome and encouraged to forward this e-mail to family and friends provided the”© 2011 James E. Carper. All rights reserved.” is included along with this message. Organizations, whether for or non profit, are required to receive written approval before reproducing these reflections. If written approval is given the ”© 2011 James E. Carper. All rights reserved.” must be included along with this message.
Thursday, September 8, 2011
Thursday, September 1, 2011
Don't Duck Life
“If you are honest and sincere people may deceive you. Be honest and sincere anyway.” ~ Blessed Mother Teresa of Calcutta, Albanian Catholic Nun, Founder of the Missionaries of Charity, Nobel Peace Prize recipient (1910-1997)
My right arm was tucked in tight against my right side, elbow at my belt line and gloved fist firmly against my cheek. I rested my chin almost on my chest and hunched my shoulders in, protecting my vital organs. Arturo, one of the instructors, laughingly called this the cockroach position.
Dean, a 4th degree Black belt, gracefully stepped to my right, hooking with his left trying to come inside my guard. Pivoting away, the blow still glanced off my sparring helmet. Keeping my left side toward him, I tried to present him with the narrowest silhouette and therefore the smallest possible target; but to no avail. He had been landing his jab on the forehead of my sparring helmet almost at will.
Several times during the sparring session, I had attempted a spinning heel kick which Dean had, each time, effortlessly avoided. Judging he was in range I tried the maneuver again. This time, however, I purposefully allowed the kick to miss, planted my foot and followed through with a spinning back fist. The result was a resounding and satisfying “thunk” as I connected with Dean’s helmeted head. Quickly I moved out of range, congratulating myself.
My satisfaction was short-lived however. Turning to face Dean again, I noticed a change. His eyes narrowed, his jaw set, I knew he was no longer toying with me, he was stalking me. In a moment of, what can only be described as desperation, I chose to attack. Errantly, I came straight forward, rather than at an angle, as I had been taught. Immediately diagnosing my strategy, Dean made a quick crossing step and executed a perfect step-over side kick.
As quickly as I had come forward, I was now traveling backward. The low angle of the kick and its flawless execution had literally launched me. I landed flat on my back on the canvas. The little oxygen left in my lungs went out of me and I lay there like a beached grouper gasping for air.
A moment later, Dean was standing over me looking down, not triumphantly, but with concern. Pulling off his glove, he popped out his mouthpiece. “Sorry man, reflex action. You OK?” he asked. “Not sure,” I croaked. Slowly I started to roll onto my side. A ribbon of pain shot through my ribcage. Dean knelt next to me and carefully explored the place where his kick had landed with his hand. “Your rib’s pushed in,” he remarked. “Let me fix it.”
Standing behind me, Dean reached under my arms and grasped my wrists. In one swift motion he brought me to my feet. Releasing my wrists, he laced his fingers behind my neck, placed me into a full nelson, and leaned back, arching me backwards as he went. In an instant there came a popping sound. A blinding burst of pain shot through my body as the damaged rib shifted back into place.
My wife was not fond of the fact that I took kick-boxing classes. To keep peace, we had made a pact; since I had chosen a hobby which virtually assured physical injury, I had agreed not to complain about them¬ – ever.
The next day, without her knowing, I went for x-rays.
It is easy to view life as a competitive sport. Getting ahead means besting the other people around us, whether at work, in the parking lot, and sometimes even at church or at home. We herald our triumphs and bind up our wounds, only to return to the fray again the next day.
Operating in a competitive world means protecting oneself; never giving ourselves away or exposing ourselves to perceived harm. Our natural inclination, when we come under what we perceive as an attack, is to “circle the wagons.” This is particularly true when it is our beliefs which are being threatened.
All the techniques I learned in kick-boxing seem to apply. Expose as little of yourself as possible displaying only the narrowest silhouette. Distance is your greatest ally and if you must get close to someone, do so only briefly. Wherever possible, engage your opponent only on your own terms. Keep your fists closed, your head down and your arms tucked in to protect yourself. In other words, employ the cockroach position.
As Christians, Jesus provides us with a very different perspective. Our prevalent image of Christ is naked, nailed to a cross, arms spread wide, fully exposed, unable to protect himself. Jesus lived his life full out, with incredible openness and frankness. This “openness” is freedom at its best and purest.
Conversely, the efforts we take to protect ourselves, to avoid mistakes, to be successful, to avoid embarrassment, to always be right, also restrict us. In fact, protective, closed approaches confine, constrain and limit us. Like Christ, we are called to live our lives openly and freely. Trying to protect what we are and to restrict who we are, only magnifies our personal issues; it doesn’t resolve them.
Life is not a boxing ring. It is a wide-open vista of possibilities. If you don’t let down your guard, you will never encounter them.
Dear God, help me this day to live my life openly.
“In the final analysis, it is between you and God. It was never between you and them anyway.” ~ Blessed Mother Teresa of Calcutta, Albanian Catholic Nun, Founder of the Missionaries of Charity, Nobel Peace Prize recipient (1910-1997)
© 2011 James E. Carper. All rights reserved.
“90 Second Stewardship” All rights are reserved. You are welcome and encouraged to forward this e-mail to family and friends provided the”© 2011 James E. Carper. All rights reserved.” is included along with this message. Organizations, whether for or non profit, are required to receive written approval before reproducing these reflections. If written approval is given the ”© 2011 James E. Carper. All rights reserved.” must be included along with this message
My right arm was tucked in tight against my right side, elbow at my belt line and gloved fist firmly against my cheek. I rested my chin almost on my chest and hunched my shoulders in, protecting my vital organs. Arturo, one of the instructors, laughingly called this the cockroach position.
Dean, a 4th degree Black belt, gracefully stepped to my right, hooking with his left trying to come inside my guard. Pivoting away, the blow still glanced off my sparring helmet. Keeping my left side toward him, I tried to present him with the narrowest silhouette and therefore the smallest possible target; but to no avail. He had been landing his jab on the forehead of my sparring helmet almost at will.
Several times during the sparring session, I had attempted a spinning heel kick which Dean had, each time, effortlessly avoided. Judging he was in range I tried the maneuver again. This time, however, I purposefully allowed the kick to miss, planted my foot and followed through with a spinning back fist. The result was a resounding and satisfying “thunk” as I connected with Dean’s helmeted head. Quickly I moved out of range, congratulating myself.
My satisfaction was short-lived however. Turning to face Dean again, I noticed a change. His eyes narrowed, his jaw set, I knew he was no longer toying with me, he was stalking me. In a moment of, what can only be described as desperation, I chose to attack. Errantly, I came straight forward, rather than at an angle, as I had been taught. Immediately diagnosing my strategy, Dean made a quick crossing step and executed a perfect step-over side kick.
As quickly as I had come forward, I was now traveling backward. The low angle of the kick and its flawless execution had literally launched me. I landed flat on my back on the canvas. The little oxygen left in my lungs went out of me and I lay there like a beached grouper gasping for air.
A moment later, Dean was standing over me looking down, not triumphantly, but with concern. Pulling off his glove, he popped out his mouthpiece. “Sorry man, reflex action. You OK?” he asked. “Not sure,” I croaked. Slowly I started to roll onto my side. A ribbon of pain shot through my ribcage. Dean knelt next to me and carefully explored the place where his kick had landed with his hand. “Your rib’s pushed in,” he remarked. “Let me fix it.”
Standing behind me, Dean reached under my arms and grasped my wrists. In one swift motion he brought me to my feet. Releasing my wrists, he laced his fingers behind my neck, placed me into a full nelson, and leaned back, arching me backwards as he went. In an instant there came a popping sound. A blinding burst of pain shot through my body as the damaged rib shifted back into place.
My wife was not fond of the fact that I took kick-boxing classes. To keep peace, we had made a pact; since I had chosen a hobby which virtually assured physical injury, I had agreed not to complain about them¬ – ever.
The next day, without her knowing, I went for x-rays.
It is easy to view life as a competitive sport. Getting ahead means besting the other people around us, whether at work, in the parking lot, and sometimes even at church or at home. We herald our triumphs and bind up our wounds, only to return to the fray again the next day.
Operating in a competitive world means protecting oneself; never giving ourselves away or exposing ourselves to perceived harm. Our natural inclination, when we come under what we perceive as an attack, is to “circle the wagons.” This is particularly true when it is our beliefs which are being threatened.
All the techniques I learned in kick-boxing seem to apply. Expose as little of yourself as possible displaying only the narrowest silhouette. Distance is your greatest ally and if you must get close to someone, do so only briefly. Wherever possible, engage your opponent only on your own terms. Keep your fists closed, your head down and your arms tucked in to protect yourself. In other words, employ the cockroach position.
As Christians, Jesus provides us with a very different perspective. Our prevalent image of Christ is naked, nailed to a cross, arms spread wide, fully exposed, unable to protect himself. Jesus lived his life full out, with incredible openness and frankness. This “openness” is freedom at its best and purest.
Conversely, the efforts we take to protect ourselves, to avoid mistakes, to be successful, to avoid embarrassment, to always be right, also restrict us. In fact, protective, closed approaches confine, constrain and limit us. Like Christ, we are called to live our lives openly and freely. Trying to protect what we are and to restrict who we are, only magnifies our personal issues; it doesn’t resolve them.
Life is not a boxing ring. It is a wide-open vista of possibilities. If you don’t let down your guard, you will never encounter them.
Dear God, help me this day to live my life openly.
“In the final analysis, it is between you and God. It was never between you and them anyway.” ~ Blessed Mother Teresa of Calcutta, Albanian Catholic Nun, Founder of the Missionaries of Charity, Nobel Peace Prize recipient (1910-1997)
© 2011 James E. Carper. All rights reserved.
“90 Second Stewardship” All rights are reserved. You are welcome and encouraged to forward this e-mail to family and friends provided the”© 2011 James E. Carper. All rights reserved.” is included along with this message. Organizations, whether for or non profit, are required to receive written approval before reproducing these reflections. If written approval is given the ”© 2011 James E. Carper. All rights reserved.” must be included along with this message
Friday, August 26, 2011
Gratitude is Plate Full
“Not what we say about our blessings, but how we use them, is the true measure of our thanksgiving.” ~W.T. Purkiser, preacher, scholar and author (1910-1992)
Margie Kibelbeck carefully positioned the perogies in the Corningware container. They had to be placed just right, then covered with wax paper, so they didn’t stick together. The container, which had made its way around the neighborhood more than once, wasn’t hers. It belonged to her friend, Stella Rodzianko.
They had known each other since childhood. Their families had lived across the street from one another since the Depression. The dish had been so well-used the blue poppies on the side had begun to wear away. It had been the vehicle for everything from brownies to golumpkie (Polish stuffed cabbage rolls).
This time it had arrived at her house, a week or so earlier, filled with chocolate chip cookies. Margie had been surprised by unexpected guests from out of town. And just when she was wondering what she could put out for them, Stella arrived unexpectedly with the cookies. Coffee and cookies had been enough to satisfy her guests. “A friend is the one who comes in when the whole world has gone out,” she thought to herself as she placed the last row of perogies on the wax paper.
There had been times during the “Big Depression” that the only food there was to eat was given by a neighbor. She often thought this was where the tradition of “never return an empty dish” had come from. During the Depression, people shared what they could with one another. There were no social services back then; unless someone took pity on you, you could starve.
She remembered a time when she was a little girl. It was the end of the month and there was nothing left in the cupboard. Mrs. Del Vecchio had dropped off a plate of rigatoni, using the excuse that she had accidentally made too much. After dinner Margie’s mother had carefully washed the plate while saying what sounded like a prayer. Once clean and ready to be returned, they had nothing to put in the dish.
So, instead, Margie’s Mom took out a small sheet of tablet paper. Seated at the kitchen table, with fountain pen in hand, she carefully wrote “Blessed are they who care for their neighbors.” Then she taped the note to the inside of the plate and instructed Margie and her brother to return it. “Make sure you say thank you,” she told them.
Mrs. Del Vecchio answered the door to find the two children standing there holding out the plate. Taking the plate, she read the note, then dabbed at her eyes with her sleeve. “Tell your Mama this is the best thing I ever got back in my plate,” she had said.
Returning from her thoughts, Margie put the glass lid on the Corningware and headed out the door. Hopefully Stella had the coffee pot on and one of her famous nut rolls in the oven.
Stewardship within a community, be it a neighborhood or a parish, is made up of many small acts of kindness. Note the emphasis on the word “acts” or “action.” I grew up with the “never return an empty plate” tradition, but over the years I have heard it continually maligned.
The arguments are always the same. If you gave someone food because they didn’t have any, how can you expect them to return the dish with food in it? Some will say they use disposable containers so there is no need to return anything. Others will say they simply return a clean plate. Sometimes you are just lucky to get the plate back at all!
Margie’s Mom answered the question: “What do you give back?” There is always something to give back. She was grateful, but there needed to be something more. Gratitude is not only a feeling; it seems to require a response from us, as well. In fact, gratitude is responsive, interactive, relational and even spiritual.
When we feel grateful, how do we respond? Recognizing that something good has happened in our lives, do we try to make something good happen in someone else’s? What do we do with the gifts we receive from God? Do we feel grateful and, in turn, act upon them? Are we returning those gifts with increase or are we simply returning to God an empty container?
Our gifts give us the impetus to respond with gratitude, and gratitude is a call to action. Never return an empty plate.
Dear God: Teach me to never return an empty plate.
“As we express our gratitude, we must never forget that the highest appreciation is not to utter words, but to live by them.” ~John Fitzgerald Kennedy, 35th President of the United States (1917-1963)
© 2011 James E. Carper. All rights reserved.
“90 Second Stewardship” All rights are reserved. You are welcome and encouraged to forward this e-mail to family and friends provided the”© 2011 James E. Carper. All rights reserved.” is included along with this message. Organizations, whether for or non profit, are required to receive written approval before reproducing these reflections. If written approval is given the ”© 2011 James E. Carper. All rights reserved.” must be included along with this message.
Margie Kibelbeck carefully positioned the perogies in the Corningware container. They had to be placed just right, then covered with wax paper, so they didn’t stick together. The container, which had made its way around the neighborhood more than once, wasn’t hers. It belonged to her friend, Stella Rodzianko.
They had known each other since childhood. Their families had lived across the street from one another since the Depression. The dish had been so well-used the blue poppies on the side had begun to wear away. It had been the vehicle for everything from brownies to golumpkie (Polish stuffed cabbage rolls).
This time it had arrived at her house, a week or so earlier, filled with chocolate chip cookies. Margie had been surprised by unexpected guests from out of town. And just when she was wondering what she could put out for them, Stella arrived unexpectedly with the cookies. Coffee and cookies had been enough to satisfy her guests. “A friend is the one who comes in when the whole world has gone out,” she thought to herself as she placed the last row of perogies on the wax paper.
There had been times during the “Big Depression” that the only food there was to eat was given by a neighbor. She often thought this was where the tradition of “never return an empty dish” had come from. During the Depression, people shared what they could with one another. There were no social services back then; unless someone took pity on you, you could starve.
She remembered a time when she was a little girl. It was the end of the month and there was nothing left in the cupboard. Mrs. Del Vecchio had dropped off a plate of rigatoni, using the excuse that she had accidentally made too much. After dinner Margie’s mother had carefully washed the plate while saying what sounded like a prayer. Once clean and ready to be returned, they had nothing to put in the dish.
So, instead, Margie’s Mom took out a small sheet of tablet paper. Seated at the kitchen table, with fountain pen in hand, she carefully wrote “Blessed are they who care for their neighbors.” Then she taped the note to the inside of the plate and instructed Margie and her brother to return it. “Make sure you say thank you,” she told them.
Mrs. Del Vecchio answered the door to find the two children standing there holding out the plate. Taking the plate, she read the note, then dabbed at her eyes with her sleeve. “Tell your Mama this is the best thing I ever got back in my plate,” she had said.
Returning from her thoughts, Margie put the glass lid on the Corningware and headed out the door. Hopefully Stella had the coffee pot on and one of her famous nut rolls in the oven.
Stewardship within a community, be it a neighborhood or a parish, is made up of many small acts of kindness. Note the emphasis on the word “acts” or “action.” I grew up with the “never return an empty plate” tradition, but over the years I have heard it continually maligned.
The arguments are always the same. If you gave someone food because they didn’t have any, how can you expect them to return the dish with food in it? Some will say they use disposable containers so there is no need to return anything. Others will say they simply return a clean plate. Sometimes you are just lucky to get the plate back at all!
Margie’s Mom answered the question: “What do you give back?” There is always something to give back. She was grateful, but there needed to be something more. Gratitude is not only a feeling; it seems to require a response from us, as well. In fact, gratitude is responsive, interactive, relational and even spiritual.
When we feel grateful, how do we respond? Recognizing that something good has happened in our lives, do we try to make something good happen in someone else’s? What do we do with the gifts we receive from God? Do we feel grateful and, in turn, act upon them? Are we returning those gifts with increase or are we simply returning to God an empty container?
Our gifts give us the impetus to respond with gratitude, and gratitude is a call to action. Never return an empty plate.
Dear God: Teach me to never return an empty plate.
“As we express our gratitude, we must never forget that the highest appreciation is not to utter words, but to live by them.” ~John Fitzgerald Kennedy, 35th President of the United States (1917-1963)
© 2011 James E. Carper. All rights reserved.
“90 Second Stewardship” All rights are reserved. You are welcome and encouraged to forward this e-mail to family and friends provided the”© 2011 James E. Carper. All rights reserved.” is included along with this message. Organizations, whether for or non profit, are required to receive written approval before reproducing these reflections. If written approval is given the ”© 2011 James E. Carper. All rights reserved.” must be included along with this message.
Friday, August 19, 2011
Puzzled
“Often our life is like putting a puzzle together without the lid to the box.” ~Deacon Brian Clements, Catholic Deacon and counselor, Archdiocese of Los Angeles
We sat at a folding card table in the middle of our living room. It had a padded green vinyl top and gun metal gray legs. Next to me sat my sister Bonnie and directly across from me my sister Linda. Spread across the table was the 1,000-plus puzzle pieces of an octagonal shaped jigsaw puzzle. The puzzle box lid was strategically placed where we all could see it, for easy reference. The lid depicted three white cats on a dark blue field.
At first we thought this would be a “piece of cake” compared to the multi-colored landscape or waterscape paintings of sunsets and the like we had worked on before. Our miscalculation was that large patches of similar colors provided few hints as to how the thing fit together. As was our custom, we started by sorting the pieces by color. Next we assembled the frame or outside edge of puzzle. Having completed those two steps we were now faced with the gaping void in the middle.
My strategy was to find puzzle pieces with the bits of dark blue and white which made up the boundary where the cats’ image met the background. And for a time, it seemed to be working. Then I came to an impasse. Two pieces, which appeared to be part of a paw, had fit together seamlessly.
Holding them over the puzzle I carefully moved them about over the surface comparing the color contrasts to portions of the already assembled puzzle. Occasionally I would attempt to fit them into a spot, with no luck. Fruitlessly, I searched for the location of the two pieces. Finding none, I set them aside and began fitting in other parts of the puzzle.
After a time, I returned to the pair of pieces and resumed the search for a fit. Frustrated by the process, they were set aside once more. Another round of matching blues to blues and whites to whites till a third time I picked up the two connected pieces determined, this time, to find their location. I became so frustrated I attempted to fit them into spots that I had previously tried, thinking somehow things had changed or that I must have missed something. Finally, defeated, I sighed with exasperation.
Bonnie had been patiently assembling a different portion of the puzzle. She looked up when she heard my sigh of frustration. “What’s wrong Jimmie?” she asked. “These two stupid paw pieces won’t fit anywhere,” I whined. “Let’s see,” she said, taking them carefully into her hands.
Calmly she surveyed the partially assembled puzzle, the box lid and the puzzle pieces in her hand, slowly turning them this way and that. Finally, her eyes brightened. “They’re not part of the paws, they’re part of the ears,” she said triumphantly, slipping them easily into position near the top of the puzzle.
My former Spiritual Director was fond of saying, “God’s plan B is always better than my plan A.” My question was, “How do you know when you are working God’s plan and not your own?” “You just know,” he replied.
There are times in my life I have felt like a windup toy in a corner, reversing direction every time I bumped into a wall, only to turn and bump into another. Chasing success up a blind alley always leaves us at a dead end. “We spend our lives climbing ladders only to find there is nothing up there” (Thomas Merton).
Why does this happen? Often, like my two puzzle pieces, we mistake ears for paws. We decide what we are, what we want to be and what gifts we think we possess. Having determined what we think will make us feel successful; we proceed based upon those assumptions. In other words, we decide we are paws, even though we are really ears.
However, what we deem successful and what God intends for us are sometimes divergent paths. We head off in a promising direction only to find ourselves frustrated because things don’t fit where we think they should. More importantly, we don’t fit where we think we should.
How do we know when we are working God’s plan? It is not unlike my sister and the puzzle. First, we must trust that God has a plan for us. We are a part of His plan; part of a much bigger picture. In other words, like a puzzle piece, we have to trust that we fit into the plan. This is one of the reasons staunch individualism is so dangerous. It denies our potential contribution to the greater whole; the greater good.
Second, we cannot rush the result. Our life takes time. Our life unfolds before us; it is not created by us. Much as we would like it to be results-oriented, it is not (at least not our own results). If we do manage to manufacture the results we want, either they will not be satisfying, or they will dissipate quickly. Ever wonder why, when we get something we thought we really wanted, we still feel empty and unsatisfied?
Third, we have to do the footwork. Life is not about waiting around for God to give us insight. It is very much about OJT (on the job training). Bonnie took the time to look at the pieces in different ways; she viewed the entire puzzle (in its incompleteness), not just the section she was working on.
Next, she looked at the box lid to see what the image should be, not what she wanted it to be. When she finally made an attempt, the result came easily. It was not the result I was looking for, but the result which was supposed to happen within the context of “the bigger picture.”
There will be times in our lives when life seems unfair or out of sync. The job we thought was perfect for us goes to someone else. Our relationships seem contentious for no apparent reason. Things we thought would make us happy just don’t. But there is a “sweet spot” in our lives. How do we know when our life is headed in the right direction? When you are working God’s plan, you just know.
Dear God: Just point me in the right direction today…please.
“Life consists, not in holding good cards, but in playing those you hold well.” ~ Josh Billings, nom de plume of Henry Wheeler Shaw, American humorist and lecturer (1818-1885)
© 2011 James E. Carper. All rights reserved.
“90 Second Stewardship” All rights are reserved. You are welcome and encouraged to forward this e-mail to family and friends provided the”© 2011 James E. Carper. All rights reserved.” is included along with this message. Organizations, whether for or non profit, are required to receive written approval before reproducing these reflections. If written approval is given the ”© 2011 James E. Carper. All rights reserved.” must be included along with this message.
We sat at a folding card table in the middle of our living room. It had a padded green vinyl top and gun metal gray legs. Next to me sat my sister Bonnie and directly across from me my sister Linda. Spread across the table was the 1,000-plus puzzle pieces of an octagonal shaped jigsaw puzzle. The puzzle box lid was strategically placed where we all could see it, for easy reference. The lid depicted three white cats on a dark blue field.
At first we thought this would be a “piece of cake” compared to the multi-colored landscape or waterscape paintings of sunsets and the like we had worked on before. Our miscalculation was that large patches of similar colors provided few hints as to how the thing fit together. As was our custom, we started by sorting the pieces by color. Next we assembled the frame or outside edge of puzzle. Having completed those two steps we were now faced with the gaping void in the middle.
My strategy was to find puzzle pieces with the bits of dark blue and white which made up the boundary where the cats’ image met the background. And for a time, it seemed to be working. Then I came to an impasse. Two pieces, which appeared to be part of a paw, had fit together seamlessly.
Holding them over the puzzle I carefully moved them about over the surface comparing the color contrasts to portions of the already assembled puzzle. Occasionally I would attempt to fit them into a spot, with no luck. Fruitlessly, I searched for the location of the two pieces. Finding none, I set them aside and began fitting in other parts of the puzzle.
After a time, I returned to the pair of pieces and resumed the search for a fit. Frustrated by the process, they were set aside once more. Another round of matching blues to blues and whites to whites till a third time I picked up the two connected pieces determined, this time, to find their location. I became so frustrated I attempted to fit them into spots that I had previously tried, thinking somehow things had changed or that I must have missed something. Finally, defeated, I sighed with exasperation.
Bonnie had been patiently assembling a different portion of the puzzle. She looked up when she heard my sigh of frustration. “What’s wrong Jimmie?” she asked. “These two stupid paw pieces won’t fit anywhere,” I whined. “Let’s see,” she said, taking them carefully into her hands.
Calmly she surveyed the partially assembled puzzle, the box lid and the puzzle pieces in her hand, slowly turning them this way and that. Finally, her eyes brightened. “They’re not part of the paws, they’re part of the ears,” she said triumphantly, slipping them easily into position near the top of the puzzle.
My former Spiritual Director was fond of saying, “God’s plan B is always better than my plan A.” My question was, “How do you know when you are working God’s plan and not your own?” “You just know,” he replied.
There are times in my life I have felt like a windup toy in a corner, reversing direction every time I bumped into a wall, only to turn and bump into another. Chasing success up a blind alley always leaves us at a dead end. “We spend our lives climbing ladders only to find there is nothing up there” (Thomas Merton).
Why does this happen? Often, like my two puzzle pieces, we mistake ears for paws. We decide what we are, what we want to be and what gifts we think we possess. Having determined what we think will make us feel successful; we proceed based upon those assumptions. In other words, we decide we are paws, even though we are really ears.
However, what we deem successful and what God intends for us are sometimes divergent paths. We head off in a promising direction only to find ourselves frustrated because things don’t fit where we think they should. More importantly, we don’t fit where we think we should.
How do we know when we are working God’s plan? It is not unlike my sister and the puzzle. First, we must trust that God has a plan for us. We are a part of His plan; part of a much bigger picture. In other words, like a puzzle piece, we have to trust that we fit into the plan. This is one of the reasons staunch individualism is so dangerous. It denies our potential contribution to the greater whole; the greater good.
Second, we cannot rush the result. Our life takes time. Our life unfolds before us; it is not created by us. Much as we would like it to be results-oriented, it is not (at least not our own results). If we do manage to manufacture the results we want, either they will not be satisfying, or they will dissipate quickly. Ever wonder why, when we get something we thought we really wanted, we still feel empty and unsatisfied?
Third, we have to do the footwork. Life is not about waiting around for God to give us insight. It is very much about OJT (on the job training). Bonnie took the time to look at the pieces in different ways; she viewed the entire puzzle (in its incompleteness), not just the section she was working on.
Next, she looked at the box lid to see what the image should be, not what she wanted it to be. When she finally made an attempt, the result came easily. It was not the result I was looking for, but the result which was supposed to happen within the context of “the bigger picture.”
There will be times in our lives when life seems unfair or out of sync. The job we thought was perfect for us goes to someone else. Our relationships seem contentious for no apparent reason. Things we thought would make us happy just don’t. But there is a “sweet spot” in our lives. How do we know when our life is headed in the right direction? When you are working God’s plan, you just know.
Dear God: Just point me in the right direction today…please.
“Life consists, not in holding good cards, but in playing those you hold well.” ~ Josh Billings, nom de plume of Henry Wheeler Shaw, American humorist and lecturer (1818-1885)
© 2011 James E. Carper. All rights reserved.
“90 Second Stewardship” All rights are reserved. You are welcome and encouraged to forward this e-mail to family and friends provided the”© 2011 James E. Carper. All rights reserved.” is included along with this message. Organizations, whether for or non profit, are required to receive written approval before reproducing these reflections. If written approval is given the ”© 2011 James E. Carper. All rights reserved.” must be included along with this message.
Saturday, August 13, 2011
United in Prayer
"Don’t pray when you feel like it. Have an appointment with the Lord and keep it. A man is powerful on his knees." Cornelia “Corrie” ten Boom, Dutch Christian Holocaust survivor who helped many Jews escape the Nazi’s during WWII (1892-1983)
It was 5:00 am in Krakow, Poland. As was his custom, Aaron Pokojowy arose early to begin his morning prayers. Ever since his people had been in exile, daily prayers (Avodah Sheba-Lev) had been a substitute for Temple sacrifices.
He recited a brief prayer as he rose from his bed; then another to announce his awakening to the Lord. “Like God doesn’t know I’m awake,” he mused. He liked to pray his Evening Prayer, but Morning Prayer was the best. It got him out the door on the right foot.
As he bathed Aaron recited another prayer. “I wash my body with soap and my soul with prayer,” he thought. Now came his favorite part; the three T’s (Tzitzi, Tallit and Tefillin). First he recited a blessing as he affixed the ritual fringe (tzitzi) to his prayer shawl (tallit); then a blessing while donning the prayer shawl. Finally, he took out two small leather boxes containing quotes from Hebrew scripture. In preparation, he prayed as he strapped the phylacteries or tefillin to his forehead.
Before leaving for synagogue; he spoke the Yetzer Hara: a prayer to help him overcome any evil inclination he might have during the day. Then out the door he went into the light of early morn.
It was 6:00 am in Chicago, Illinois. Sister Mary Elizabeth McNault sat in her room at the mother house of the Sisters of Mercy. A single candle illuminated the room. She was quietly reading Psalm 63: “You, God, are my God, earnestly I seek you.”
She was praying the Divine Office also called The Christian Prayer. Though Morning and Evening Prayer were required of all clergy and those in religious orders, even before she entered the convent she had “prayed the Hours” Her Uncle Harry, a priest, had taught her how to “pray the Psalms” when she was twelve.
The intercessions for the day closed with, “Give us strength in temptation, endurance in trial, and gratitude in prosperity.” “AMEN,” she thought to herself. Concluding her prayers, Sister Mary Elizabeth quickly shrugged on her coat and headed out the door. She had to get the Mission Food Pantry open and ready.
It was 5:23 am in Cairo; time to perform Salah (“formal” or “obligatory prayer” in Islam). The large speakers erupted from the minarets announcing the prayer; “God is great,” the voice repeated four times. Abraam Fayium rolled out his prayer rug and knelt down in the street facing Mecca.
This was how he communicated with God. By reciting “The Opening” or the first chapter of the Qur’an Abraam placed himself in God’s presence; praising Him, and asking for guidance along the “Straight Path.”
The prayers also reminded him to give thanks for God’s blessings. By allowing his life to revolve around Allah, Abraam could more easily submit to His will, allowing Allah to take precedence over all other things in his life.
The speakers fell silent. Abraam finished his prayer then carefully rolled up his rug, returning it to his pack. There was much to do before the next call to prayer. He had melons to sell.
Sister Mary Elizabeth’s Morning Prayer (or The Divine Office) has its origins in ancient Hebrew customs. The same custom’s which Aaron Pokojowy follows. The early Jews, in addition to Morning and Evening Prayer, recited prayers at 9:00 am, 12:00 noon and 3:00 pm.We know this from the Book of Acts.
The early Christian Church adopted this form of prayer (Morning and Evening prayer as well as three daily prayers). Its basic structure, combining Psalms, prayers, canticles and readings, has remained fairly constant throughout our history.
Islam also has five daily prayers based on the time of day as prescribed by the location of the sun. Many scholars believe Muhammad adopted the form of the Divine Office for the five daily prayers of the Islamic faith from the Christian Monastic orders in his locale.
We often publicly decry individuals who profess a “my way or the highway” mode of thinking. This "I'm always right" thinking is, quite simply, narcissism. Sadly, this very characteristic, which we dislike in individuals, we often readily buy into as a group.
Group narcissism is dangerous. We readily profess our party, our country, our culture, our race or our religion got it right and every other one else is somehow misguided or inferior.
In other words, as a group, we all agree to tell ourselves the same lie. We agree our party is always right, our race is superior, our country is better, the other gender is inferior and our God is the God.
This approach is a slippery slope. Wisdom can never come from this kind of thinking, particularly when it comes to faith. Taking this path; proving our way is the right way, implies our religion is the only one God cares about. Therefore, we are the only people God loves.
Aaron, Sr. Mary Elizabeth and Abraam all participate in daily prayers. Daily, three of the principle religions of the world kneel down together to pray…at the same times…and in much the same way. The origins of our prayers have grown out of each other.
Is it not amazing, that even with a 2,000+ year history of strife and discord we all pray together; probably without realizing it? And, we pray for the same things: for God to make each of us a better person.
As stewards of the world we are called to find God’s identity in all people and we have a good starting point in our daily prayers.
Dear God: Today I pray with all my brothers and sisters.
“Are we not all children of the same God?” Blessed Pope John Paul II (1920-2005)
© 2011 James E. Carper. All rights reserved.
“90 Second Stewardship” All rights are reserved. You are welcome and encouraged to forward this e-mail to family and friends provided the”© 2011 James E. Carper. All rights reserved.” is included along with this message. Organizations, whether for or non profit, are required to receive written approval before reproducing these reflections. If written approval is given, the ”© 2011 James E. Carper. All rights reserved.” must be included along with this message.
It was 5:00 am in Krakow, Poland. As was his custom, Aaron Pokojowy arose early to begin his morning prayers. Ever since his people had been in exile, daily prayers (Avodah Sheba-Lev) had been a substitute for Temple sacrifices.
He recited a brief prayer as he rose from his bed; then another to announce his awakening to the Lord. “Like God doesn’t know I’m awake,” he mused. He liked to pray his Evening Prayer, but Morning Prayer was the best. It got him out the door on the right foot.
As he bathed Aaron recited another prayer. “I wash my body with soap and my soul with prayer,” he thought. Now came his favorite part; the three T’s (Tzitzi, Tallit and Tefillin). First he recited a blessing as he affixed the ritual fringe (tzitzi) to his prayer shawl (tallit); then a blessing while donning the prayer shawl. Finally, he took out two small leather boxes containing quotes from Hebrew scripture. In preparation, he prayed as he strapped the phylacteries or tefillin to his forehead.
Before leaving for synagogue; he spoke the Yetzer Hara: a prayer to help him overcome any evil inclination he might have during the day. Then out the door he went into the light of early morn.
It was 6:00 am in Chicago, Illinois. Sister Mary Elizabeth McNault sat in her room at the mother house of the Sisters of Mercy. A single candle illuminated the room. She was quietly reading Psalm 63: “You, God, are my God, earnestly I seek you.”
She was praying the Divine Office also called The Christian Prayer. Though Morning and Evening Prayer were required of all clergy and those in religious orders, even before she entered the convent she had “prayed the Hours” Her Uncle Harry, a priest, had taught her how to “pray the Psalms” when she was twelve.
The intercessions for the day closed with, “Give us strength in temptation, endurance in trial, and gratitude in prosperity.” “AMEN,” she thought to herself. Concluding her prayers, Sister Mary Elizabeth quickly shrugged on her coat and headed out the door. She had to get the Mission Food Pantry open and ready.
It was 5:23 am in Cairo; time to perform Salah (“formal” or “obligatory prayer” in Islam). The large speakers erupted from the minarets announcing the prayer; “God is great,” the voice repeated four times. Abraam Fayium rolled out his prayer rug and knelt down in the street facing Mecca.
This was how he communicated with God. By reciting “The Opening” or the first chapter of the Qur’an Abraam placed himself in God’s presence; praising Him, and asking for guidance along the “Straight Path.”
The prayers also reminded him to give thanks for God’s blessings. By allowing his life to revolve around Allah, Abraam could more easily submit to His will, allowing Allah to take precedence over all other things in his life.
The speakers fell silent. Abraam finished his prayer then carefully rolled up his rug, returning it to his pack. There was much to do before the next call to prayer. He had melons to sell.
Sister Mary Elizabeth’s Morning Prayer (or The Divine Office) has its origins in ancient Hebrew customs. The same custom’s which Aaron Pokojowy follows. The early Jews, in addition to Morning and Evening Prayer, recited prayers at 9:00 am, 12:00 noon and 3:00 pm.We know this from the Book of Acts.
The early Christian Church adopted this form of prayer (Morning and Evening prayer as well as three daily prayers). Its basic structure, combining Psalms, prayers, canticles and readings, has remained fairly constant throughout our history.
Islam also has five daily prayers based on the time of day as prescribed by the location of the sun. Many scholars believe Muhammad adopted the form of the Divine Office for the five daily prayers of the Islamic faith from the Christian Monastic orders in his locale.
We often publicly decry individuals who profess a “my way or the highway” mode of thinking. This "I'm always right" thinking is, quite simply, narcissism. Sadly, this very characteristic, which we dislike in individuals, we often readily buy into as a group.
Group narcissism is dangerous. We readily profess our party, our country, our culture, our race or our religion got it right and every other one else is somehow misguided or inferior.
In other words, as a group, we all agree to tell ourselves the same lie. We agree our party is always right, our race is superior, our country is better, the other gender is inferior and our God is the God.
This approach is a slippery slope. Wisdom can never come from this kind of thinking, particularly when it comes to faith. Taking this path; proving our way is the right way, implies our religion is the only one God cares about. Therefore, we are the only people God loves.
Aaron, Sr. Mary Elizabeth and Abraam all participate in daily prayers. Daily, three of the principle religions of the world kneel down together to pray…at the same times…and in much the same way. The origins of our prayers have grown out of each other.
Is it not amazing, that even with a 2,000+ year history of strife and discord we all pray together; probably without realizing it? And, we pray for the same things: for God to make each of us a better person.
As stewards of the world we are called to find God’s identity in all people and we have a good starting point in our daily prayers.
Dear God: Today I pray with all my brothers and sisters.
“Are we not all children of the same God?” Blessed Pope John Paul II (1920-2005)
© 2011 James E. Carper. All rights reserved.
“90 Second Stewardship” All rights are reserved. You are welcome and encouraged to forward this e-mail to family and friends provided the”© 2011 James E. Carper. All rights reserved.” is included along with this message. Organizations, whether for or non profit, are required to receive written approval before reproducing these reflections. If written approval is given, the ”© 2011 James E. Carper. All rights reserved.” must be included along with this message.
Thursday, August 4, 2011
An Unlisted Number
“My friends? The left ones think I’m right and the right ones think I was left behind.” ~Author unknown
In the News:
“Vice President Joe Biden joined House Democrats in lashing tea party Republicans Monday, accusing them of having “acted like terrorists” in the fight over raising the nation’s debt limit, according to several sources in the room.” (Jonathon Allen & John Bresnahan from Polictico.com)
“He didn’t call tea partiers terrorists – just crazy people who wanted to detonate a nuclear weapon. See? Completely different!” (Jim Geraghty from National Review Online)
“Bachmann, a GOP presidential candidate, and Palin, a potential candidate, each reacted with outrage at a report that Biden, at a closed-door meeting with Democrats yesterday on Capitol Hill, said that Tea Party Republicans had “acted like terrorists” in negotiations over a debt-ceiling compromise.” (The Hill.com)
“Senator Charles Schumer (D-NY), in a shocking and world-shaking allegation, has accused the Republican Party of malevolently attempting to undermine the United States in an attempt to hurt President Barack Obama in the 2012 general elections.” (America’s Economic Report Daily)
…and so it goes.
There is a certain entertainment value in politics – to a point. Beyond that, one has to become concerned at the verbal grenades which are so casually lobbed between various groups. Setting aside that there might be “organizations” that deserve their reputations (such as the KKK) the danger is that we begin stereotyping one another based on labels such as Democrat, Republican, Conservative, Liberal, etc. We abhor racial profiling; but when it comes to political profiling, it is open season.
There is, however, another side to this issue. It is an incredible irony in our American society today. We Americans are rugged individualists. We want to be our own person and we resist being labeled by others. And yet, we seem to readily adopt certain labels, choose to live by them, and defend them ardently.
Why do we allow our lives to be conditioned by these labels?
Is it possible these “categories” are nothing more than a shortcut – a way of making our belief systems more efficient or more convenient? “I am a liberal therefore I am pro-choice, pro-same sex marriage and anti-war”? Or, “I am a conservative therefore I am pro-life, pro-war and anti-same sex marriages”?
Much as we profess to be open-minded, we seem quite willing to take on the biases of our own particular group.
So I ask you: Was Jesus a Conservative or a Liberal? In point of fact, he was neither. At times he was very conservative; and at others, very liberal. Regardless of the situation – whether it be talking to “forbidden” women, dining with the “unwashed,” throwing moneychangers out of the temple, or being bathed in expensive oil – the one constant is that Jesus defies being labeled.
His response to every situation is often surprising, sometimes shocking, and always appropriate. (Note: Those who defined themselves by their labels such as the Pharisees, the Sadducees, and the Temple Elders found Jesus’ actions very inappropriate.)
Moreover, in Scripture, when people remove their labels and break out of their categories, great things begin to happen. A Samaritan man interrupts his journey, walks across the road, and cares for a beaten and dying religious enemy. Zacchaeus, a tax collector, comes down from his tree and gives back all the money he has swindled, four times over. A woman at a well, of perhaps dubious character, leaves her jar behind and goes to town to share the good news. Saul, who dedicated his life to persecuting Christians, has an encounter on the road, and becomes St. Paul, one of the greatest Apostles of all time.
There are also those who can’t leave the label behind. When Jesus challenges the rich young man to change his life – to prove that God is more important than money, power and prestige – the young man can’t change, and goes away sad.
The great Christian writer, Fr. Ronald Rolheiser once instructed his listeners to “always have an unlisted number.” In other words, don’t allow your actions to make you easily labeled. Don’t succumb to the stereotypes.
As good stewards of our time, we are called to give consideration to all points of view, even when it is uncomfortable. We are called to be boundary breakers, to cross lines, to listen to and hear the other voices in the world. To make decisions and choices based on consideration and contemplation, not simply the party line.
We are called to live out our beliefs, not live up to our label.
Dear God: Teach me to encounter life on a “case by case” basis.
“There are a lot of stereotypes to be broken which I think a lot of us are doing. What I do is, as soon as people try to pin me down to one kind of part, I'll play a very different kind of role, so it explodes that stereotype.” ~Joan Chen, Chinese American actress, director, screenwriter and film producer (b1961)
© 2011 James E. Carper. All rights reserved.
“90 Second Stewardship” All rights are reserved. You are welcome and encouraged to forward this e-mail to family and friends provided the”© 2011 James E. Carper. All rights reserved.” is included along with this message. Organizations, whether for or non profit, are required to receive written approval before reproducing these reflections. If written approval is given, the ”© 2011 James E. Carper. All rights reserved.” must be included along with this message.
In the News:
“Vice President Joe Biden joined House Democrats in lashing tea party Republicans Monday, accusing them of having “acted like terrorists” in the fight over raising the nation’s debt limit, according to several sources in the room.” (Jonathon Allen & John Bresnahan from Polictico.com)
“He didn’t call tea partiers terrorists – just crazy people who wanted to detonate a nuclear weapon. See? Completely different!” (Jim Geraghty from National Review Online)
“Bachmann, a GOP presidential candidate, and Palin, a potential candidate, each reacted with outrage at a report that Biden, at a closed-door meeting with Democrats yesterday on Capitol Hill, said that Tea Party Republicans had “acted like terrorists” in negotiations over a debt-ceiling compromise.” (The Hill.com)
“Senator Charles Schumer (D-NY), in a shocking and world-shaking allegation, has accused the Republican Party of malevolently attempting to undermine the United States in an attempt to hurt President Barack Obama in the 2012 general elections.” (America’s Economic Report Daily)
…and so it goes.
There is a certain entertainment value in politics – to a point. Beyond that, one has to become concerned at the verbal grenades which are so casually lobbed between various groups. Setting aside that there might be “organizations” that deserve their reputations (such as the KKK) the danger is that we begin stereotyping one another based on labels such as Democrat, Republican, Conservative, Liberal, etc. We abhor racial profiling; but when it comes to political profiling, it is open season.
There is, however, another side to this issue. It is an incredible irony in our American society today. We Americans are rugged individualists. We want to be our own person and we resist being labeled by others. And yet, we seem to readily adopt certain labels, choose to live by them, and defend them ardently.
Why do we allow our lives to be conditioned by these labels?
Is it possible these “categories” are nothing more than a shortcut – a way of making our belief systems more efficient or more convenient? “I am a liberal therefore I am pro-choice, pro-same sex marriage and anti-war”? Or, “I am a conservative therefore I am pro-life, pro-war and anti-same sex marriages”?
Much as we profess to be open-minded, we seem quite willing to take on the biases of our own particular group.
So I ask you: Was Jesus a Conservative or a Liberal? In point of fact, he was neither. At times he was very conservative; and at others, very liberal. Regardless of the situation – whether it be talking to “forbidden” women, dining with the “unwashed,” throwing moneychangers out of the temple, or being bathed in expensive oil – the one constant is that Jesus defies being labeled.
His response to every situation is often surprising, sometimes shocking, and always appropriate. (Note: Those who defined themselves by their labels such as the Pharisees, the Sadducees, and the Temple Elders found Jesus’ actions very inappropriate.)
Moreover, in Scripture, when people remove their labels and break out of their categories, great things begin to happen. A Samaritan man interrupts his journey, walks across the road, and cares for a beaten and dying religious enemy. Zacchaeus, a tax collector, comes down from his tree and gives back all the money he has swindled, four times over. A woman at a well, of perhaps dubious character, leaves her jar behind and goes to town to share the good news. Saul, who dedicated his life to persecuting Christians, has an encounter on the road, and becomes St. Paul, one of the greatest Apostles of all time.
There are also those who can’t leave the label behind. When Jesus challenges the rich young man to change his life – to prove that God is more important than money, power and prestige – the young man can’t change, and goes away sad.
The great Christian writer, Fr. Ronald Rolheiser once instructed his listeners to “always have an unlisted number.” In other words, don’t allow your actions to make you easily labeled. Don’t succumb to the stereotypes.
As good stewards of our time, we are called to give consideration to all points of view, even when it is uncomfortable. We are called to be boundary breakers, to cross lines, to listen to and hear the other voices in the world. To make decisions and choices based on consideration and contemplation, not simply the party line.
We are called to live out our beliefs, not live up to our label.
Dear God: Teach me to encounter life on a “case by case” basis.
“There are a lot of stereotypes to be broken which I think a lot of us are doing. What I do is, as soon as people try to pin me down to one kind of part, I'll play a very different kind of role, so it explodes that stereotype.” ~Joan Chen, Chinese American actress, director, screenwriter and film producer (b1961)
© 2011 James E. Carper. All rights reserved.
“90 Second Stewardship” All rights are reserved. You are welcome and encouraged to forward this e-mail to family and friends provided the”© 2011 James E. Carper. All rights reserved.” is included along with this message. Organizations, whether for or non profit, are required to receive written approval before reproducing these reflections. If written approval is given, the ”© 2011 James E. Carper. All rights reserved.” must be included along with this message.
Thursday, July 28, 2011
Running Interference
“The whole idea of compassion is based on a keen awareness of the interdependence of all these living beings, which are all part of one another, and all involved in one another.” ~ Thomas Merton, Trappist monk, American Catholic writer (1915-1968).
We turned and started up the stairs toward the entrance. To our right were several international warning signs (no smoking, quiet please, etc.) The most prominent and most repeated was a picture of a camera with a red circle around it and a red line through it. Clearly photography was not going to be permitted.
At the top of the stairs was a guard. Rhythmically, in a heavily accented voice, he repeated the same warning, “no pictures.” Dutifully, I quickly stepped aside and took a moment to shove my Canon Rebel, lens and all, into the specially padded knapsack I carried.
Stepping back in line I held up the bag displaying it to the guard. To my surprise, he smiled briefly and gave me a “thumbs up” sign. We turned to our right and headed into one of the most beautiful and inspired rooms in the world – the Sistine Chapel. The Chapel (named for Pope Sixtus IV) is famous for its architecture and its frescos painted by the likes of Michelangelo, Botticelli, Perugino and Pinturicchio.
The room was packed with people, shoulder to shoulder, staring in all directions. Three guards stood on the raised portion of the floor where the altar was located, watching the crowd carefully. Periodically one would speak a single word, “Silenzio,” at which the crowd would quiet to a murmur. This was randomly interspersed with another phrase, “No pictures!”
We were admiring Michelangelo’s “The Last Judgment” on the main wall when a flash of light erupted to our immediate left. In an instant one of the guards descended on a group of three young women, barely 10 feet from us. “Did you not hear us tell you no pictures?” the guard scolded in a stern voice. “What does it take to make you understand?” Two of them looked at the floor, but one, the offending camera still in her hand, began to flush. “Please don’t cause me to have to make you leave,” the guard continued.
Finally, the girl glared at the guard. “You can’t make us leave,” she responded. Her accent was distinctly American and definitely urban. “We paid to be here.” “You can’t make us leave,” she repeated. “We’ve got rights ya know!”
Teresa and I stared at each other trying not to chuckle. Did she just say that? Really?? The Sistine Chapel is located in Vatican City which is a country unto itself. Essentially, when you’re there, like any foreign country, you play by their rules. They can do whatever they deem appropriate.
The guard seemed to suppress a smile, perhaps recognizing the naiveté in the woman’s comment. He stared back at her for a moment. Then, with a sweeping gesture of his right arm, palm open he motioned toward the exit. “Please, per favore, this way.” He said this almost sympathetically, as if to a child who had just been scolded. Without a word of protestation from any of them, he led them to the nearest exit and watched as they left.
The guard returned to his station shaking his head. Immediately the sound level began to rise. “Silenzio,” came the voice of another guard. This time, the room fell into near perfect silence.
We live in arguably the most desirable country in the world. After wresting itself from the monarchial rule of England, the United States of America developed its own form of democracy, with a legal system to match. Having fought tirelessly for our independence, we set about to assure we would not be “interfered with” again. One of our early flags bears the simple phrase, “Don’t Tread on Me.”
For the most part, the laws of our democracy are constructed to provide us with protection from the interference of others. As an individual this means, “I should be able to do what I want, provided I don’t harm (or interfere with) anyone else.”
How often have we heard this phrase used as an argument in favor of legalizing some activity or something? “I’m not hurting anyone, so what’s the harm in my doing what I want to do?” I have little doubt the same reasoning was at work that day in the Sistine Chapel. “If I take a picture, it’s not hurting anyone.” “In fact, it’s my right. After all, I paid to be here.” Is it any wonder Americans have the reputation for being the staunch individualists of the world?
And, while we like to think our Christian values play well with the laws of the land, there are distinct contrasts between the two. Our individualism calls us to stay out of each other’s way, while our Christian values call us to get involved and to sometimes intervene where necessary.
Jesus was often accused of interfering with the smooth operation of the “status quo.” His ministry was one of intervention; intervening when others were in need. In fact, he describes the difference between those who will enter the kingdom and those who won’t as being those who get involved and care for others as opposed to those who don’t. He doesn’t mention following the rules or a policy of non-interference (Matthew 25).
As modern-day Christians, we are called to intervene at times. We are called to intervene in the cycle of poverty, we are called to intervene in the rising rate of homelessness, and we are called to intervene until all are educated and have adequate medical coverage. We are called to intervene wherever inequities exist.
We are called to be interventionists and to be agents of positive change. Wherever there is inequity between the poor and the rich, the underprivileged and the privileged, the uneducated and the educated, or the marginalized and the mainstream, those of us who profess to be Christian should be at work balancing the scales. It is not an easy task and it is often unpopular. Is it any wonder there have been so many Christian martyrs (45.5 million in the 20th century alone)?
We are blessed to live in a country of great freedom, but with great freedom comes great responsibility. We are not called to go our own way and stay out of the way. We are called to follow the way Jesus modeled for us – involving ourselves in the world, leaving it better than we found it.
Dear God, who needs my help today?
“He who passively accepts evil is as much involved in it as he who helps to perpetrate it. He who accepts evil without protesting against it is really cooperating with it.” ~Rev. Martin Luther King, Jr., African-American clergyman, activist and leader in the American Civil Rights Movement (1929-1968)
© 2011 James E. Carper. All rights reserved.
“90 Second Stewardship” All rights are reserved. You are welcome and encouraged to forward this e-mail to family and friends provided the”© 2011 James E. Carper. All rights reserved.” is included along with this message. Organizations, whether for or non profit, are required to receive written approval before reproducing these reflections. If written approval is given, the ”© 2011 James E. Carper. All rights reserved.” must be included along with this message.
We turned and started up the stairs toward the entrance. To our right were several international warning signs (no smoking, quiet please, etc.) The most prominent and most repeated was a picture of a camera with a red circle around it and a red line through it. Clearly photography was not going to be permitted.
At the top of the stairs was a guard. Rhythmically, in a heavily accented voice, he repeated the same warning, “no pictures.” Dutifully, I quickly stepped aside and took a moment to shove my Canon Rebel, lens and all, into the specially padded knapsack I carried.
Stepping back in line I held up the bag displaying it to the guard. To my surprise, he smiled briefly and gave me a “thumbs up” sign. We turned to our right and headed into one of the most beautiful and inspired rooms in the world – the Sistine Chapel. The Chapel (named for Pope Sixtus IV) is famous for its architecture and its frescos painted by the likes of Michelangelo, Botticelli, Perugino and Pinturicchio.
The room was packed with people, shoulder to shoulder, staring in all directions. Three guards stood on the raised portion of the floor where the altar was located, watching the crowd carefully. Periodically one would speak a single word, “Silenzio,” at which the crowd would quiet to a murmur. This was randomly interspersed with another phrase, “No pictures!”
We were admiring Michelangelo’s “The Last Judgment” on the main wall when a flash of light erupted to our immediate left. In an instant one of the guards descended on a group of three young women, barely 10 feet from us. “Did you not hear us tell you no pictures?” the guard scolded in a stern voice. “What does it take to make you understand?” Two of them looked at the floor, but one, the offending camera still in her hand, began to flush. “Please don’t cause me to have to make you leave,” the guard continued.
Finally, the girl glared at the guard. “You can’t make us leave,” she responded. Her accent was distinctly American and definitely urban. “We paid to be here.” “You can’t make us leave,” she repeated. “We’ve got rights ya know!”
Teresa and I stared at each other trying not to chuckle. Did she just say that? Really?? The Sistine Chapel is located in Vatican City which is a country unto itself. Essentially, when you’re there, like any foreign country, you play by their rules. They can do whatever they deem appropriate.
The guard seemed to suppress a smile, perhaps recognizing the naiveté in the woman’s comment. He stared back at her for a moment. Then, with a sweeping gesture of his right arm, palm open he motioned toward the exit. “Please, per favore, this way.” He said this almost sympathetically, as if to a child who had just been scolded. Without a word of protestation from any of them, he led them to the nearest exit and watched as they left.
The guard returned to his station shaking his head. Immediately the sound level began to rise. “Silenzio,” came the voice of another guard. This time, the room fell into near perfect silence.
We live in arguably the most desirable country in the world. After wresting itself from the monarchial rule of England, the United States of America developed its own form of democracy, with a legal system to match. Having fought tirelessly for our independence, we set about to assure we would not be “interfered with” again. One of our early flags bears the simple phrase, “Don’t Tread on Me.”
For the most part, the laws of our democracy are constructed to provide us with protection from the interference of others. As an individual this means, “I should be able to do what I want, provided I don’t harm (or interfere with) anyone else.”
How often have we heard this phrase used as an argument in favor of legalizing some activity or something? “I’m not hurting anyone, so what’s the harm in my doing what I want to do?” I have little doubt the same reasoning was at work that day in the Sistine Chapel. “If I take a picture, it’s not hurting anyone.” “In fact, it’s my right. After all, I paid to be here.” Is it any wonder Americans have the reputation for being the staunch individualists of the world?
And, while we like to think our Christian values play well with the laws of the land, there are distinct contrasts between the two. Our individualism calls us to stay out of each other’s way, while our Christian values call us to get involved and to sometimes intervene where necessary.
Jesus was often accused of interfering with the smooth operation of the “status quo.” His ministry was one of intervention; intervening when others were in need. In fact, he describes the difference between those who will enter the kingdom and those who won’t as being those who get involved and care for others as opposed to those who don’t. He doesn’t mention following the rules or a policy of non-interference (Matthew 25).
As modern-day Christians, we are called to intervene at times. We are called to intervene in the cycle of poverty, we are called to intervene in the rising rate of homelessness, and we are called to intervene until all are educated and have adequate medical coverage. We are called to intervene wherever inequities exist.
We are called to be interventionists and to be agents of positive change. Wherever there is inequity between the poor and the rich, the underprivileged and the privileged, the uneducated and the educated, or the marginalized and the mainstream, those of us who profess to be Christian should be at work balancing the scales. It is not an easy task and it is often unpopular. Is it any wonder there have been so many Christian martyrs (45.5 million in the 20th century alone)?
We are blessed to live in a country of great freedom, but with great freedom comes great responsibility. We are not called to go our own way and stay out of the way. We are called to follow the way Jesus modeled for us – involving ourselves in the world, leaving it better than we found it.
Dear God, who needs my help today?
“He who passively accepts evil is as much involved in it as he who helps to perpetrate it. He who accepts evil without protesting against it is really cooperating with it.” ~Rev. Martin Luther King, Jr., African-American clergyman, activist and leader in the American Civil Rights Movement (1929-1968)
© 2011 James E. Carper. All rights reserved.
“90 Second Stewardship” All rights are reserved. You are welcome and encouraged to forward this e-mail to family and friends provided the”© 2011 James E. Carper. All rights reserved.” is included along with this message. Organizations, whether for or non profit, are required to receive written approval before reproducing these reflections. If written approval is given, the ”© 2011 James E. Carper. All rights reserved.” must be included along with this message.
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